


It Starts and Ends with a Kiss

by hrkkitulikijehuar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, allison is alive, because I cannot cope, i have no idea how to tag this, making use of the other senses, no touch, post 3b but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrkkitulikijehuar/pseuds/hrkkitulikijehuar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don't do casual. If we do this, I want everything.”<br/>What this does to Stiles' is almost alarming. The sound he makes is a strangled cry, and it looks like his knees actually give way for a second as he sort of wrestles with the desk.<br/>“I mean it.” Derek growls, not menacing, but serious. He moves back to the window. “Everything. And that's the offer. Nothing physical until you're eighteen, and you're mine.”</p><p>OR</p><p>Derek refuses to touch Stiles (or let Stiles touch him) until Stiles is legal, but it's ok, because he has some ideas about what they can do instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Jay](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Recalcitrant_Slytherin_Slut/pseuds/Recalcitrant_Slytherin_Slut) is my ever awesome beta!

 

    “Stiles.” his voice is firm but quiet, and that's ok because Stiles was expecting this. He knew it would happened, there wasn't any other outcome, he'd know that all along. But knowing it doesn't help. It doesn’t mean a damn thing.

    “I know.” he replies, pulling back and letting go of Derek's arm. “I get it.”

    Stiles steps back. They're in front of his window, and Stiles is ready for this folly to be over. But as he feels the pain gather in his chest, threatening to control him, he flicks his eyes up to Derek's defiantly. He can take this. He knew what he was doing, and he won't run from the consequences.

    Derek's face had been resigned, but the moment Stiles' eyes meet his, it changes. Stiles doesn't know what that means, that look. There's no surprise or disgust, if anything, perhaps a little fear. That pisses Stiles off. This is his heart on the line, not Derek's; Derek is about to shut him down, and Stiles could care less if that causes Derek some kind of pity or whatever. Stiles turns and walks to his desk to put some space between them. He leans against it, facing Derek, but not looking at him. He wants this over, and he doesn't want to hear Derek say what he knows is coming, so he says it for him:

    “I get it. I'm too young. I'm seventeen, I'm a guy, I'm not really attractive, I'm annoying as hell, I'm a spaz, I'm....” he tries to swallow, but his mouth is too dry.

    “Stiles.” But this time it's a plea—not a warning, and Derek sinks on Stiles' bed like he can't manage to stand anymore. Stiles looks up sharply. Derek is absolutely wrecked. Like Stiles wasn't listing off his own flaws, but Derek's, and Derek cared what Stiles thought. Like Stiles just told him he'd been lying to him like everyone always lied to Derek. Like Stiles had hurt him.

    What the hell.

    Stiles heart flutters against his chest like a trapped bird. But Derek, damn him, is not talking. Fine, if Derek won't, Stiles will.

    “I just...I guess I just need to hear you say it. That you don't want me. Then I'll get over it. I mean isn't that what you're supposed to do when you're young? Fall for the wrong people, get shot down, mope for awhile, and then move on?”

    There's another long silence, but Stiles doesn't have anything left to say. He licks his lips, he doesn't do it on purpose, but he's so taunt and dry. He imagines he can taste the ghost of Derek there, where Stiles had started this whole travesty by pressing a hasty, awkward kiss to Derek's lips as Derek was leaving. He never takes his eyes off Derek, trying to work out what that expression of utter pain is supposed to mean. But Derek sees him lick his lips and it changes something.

    Derek gets up and stands in front of Stiles.

    “Don't move.” It's a low growl that sets Stiles' heart off again, careening wildly in his chest. His skin is suddenly alive, and hot, and desperate. Stiles grips the desk with his hands as Derek leans in close, hovering over the place where his neck meets his shoulder.

    “I do want you.” Hot, moist air makes Stiles shudder. His mind should be racing at that, but Stiles' higher functions been disconnected by how incredibly hot that sounded, how hot it felt.

    “But I can't have you.” Derek's breath moves up along his neck as he whispers.

    “I can't touch you until you're eighteen.” Derek's lips stir the hair by Stiles' ear, and a small, strangled moan escapes his control. There's a hint of a chuckle from Derek, but Stiles might be imagining it.

    “No lips, no hands, no tongue...” Derek makes his way just under Stiles' jaw line as Stiles tilts back his head. His lips never touch Stiles' skin, but they are so close Stiles can sense them, and for a wild moment almost disregards Derek's command and claims them with his own.

    “But...” Derek drags out the word as he ghost nuzzles at Stiles' throat. Stiles whimpers, he actually whimpers, and swallows hard, trying to make Derek close the millimeter of space between Derek's lips and Stiles' skin.

    Derek pulls back instead and surveys his handwork. Stiles is trembling, still leaning back with hands white knuckled from gripping the desk for dear life. His heart is a wild thing, it sounds like prey. His breaths are coming in little fits as he tries to control them. And his face...Stiles' face is open, devastated, hungry ,with amber eyes darkened by pupils blown wide. Those eyes are a question.

    “That leaves other things.” Derek whispers, voice raw. Because Derek is just as affected.

    “Eyes, ears,” And Derek plunges forward again, inhaling deeply over Stiles' pulse point. “Nose...”

    Stiles makes a small, hungry sound in his throat, half moan and half whimper. Derek stays a moment, savoring Stiles' scent. It's a heady thing now, colored and intensified by desire, and the right amount of fear that stirs Derek's need to chase him in any sense of the word. But he has to finish this, so he reluctantly moves away, raising his head so he can meet Stiles' eyes.

    “And Hearts.” He finishes. “I don't do casual. If we do this, I want everything.”

    What this does to Stiles' is almost alarming. The sound he makes is a strangled cry, and it looks like his knees actually give way for a second as he sort of wrestles with the desk.

    “I mean it.” Derek growls, not menacing, but serious. He moves back to the window. “Everything. And that's the offer. Nothing physical until you're eighteen, and you're mine.”

    And he leaves, because that's not the kind of decision Stiles should make lightly.

~*~

    “Scott...”

    “Stiles, are you ok?”

    “No? I don't...I mean, I'm safe, sorry just....”

    “Stiles, you're kind of freaking me out.”

    “Do you remember how I mentioned that I wasn't a hundred percent sure I was straight?”

    “Yeah...so....”

    “I'm now one hundred percent, absolutely sure I am not straight.”

    “Ok....?”

    “I may have kissed Derek.”

    “What?”

    “Yeah, I definitely kissed Derek. In my room. By the window.”

    “And you're still alive?”

    “Debatable.”

    “Stiles!”

    “He didn't hurt me Scott, he....uh...”

    “Oh my god, no no no. Do not finish that sentence unless he politely turned you down, and fled like the failwolf he is.”

    “Right. Well then. Um.”

    “It's Derek. You don't even like Derek.”

    “Yes I do?”

    “Is that a question?”

    “He's really hot Scott, like...I mean really.”

    “Dude, I have eyes. But he's Derek. He's...too old and too....Derek.”

    “But that's the thing, he is Derek. That's why he works. And, yeah, I like him. I mean he can be an ass, sure, but so can I. You have been on occasion, and I still love you.”

    “Yeah but we're brothers Stiles, that's different.”

    “It really very is.”

    “Oh god. Never, under any circumstances are you to tell me anything about his...your....anything that happens. Nothing is going to happen right? I mean...”

    “I don't know. And you do not get to bitch about me talking about Derek. I have listened to you wax poetic about Allison, Isaac, and Kira.”

    “I do not wax poetic about Kira. Or Isaac.”

    “You've only started with Kira, so I'll grant you it isn't poetry yet. But Isaac? I was wondering if maybe we weren't both bi for awhile there.”

    “ _Anyway_.”

    “Derek's a good guy, Scott, you know he is. It just took us all a while to get where we could see each other clearly. But the thing is...his track record sucks. I mean seriously just...relationships do not go well for him, and I...I don't want to be another mistake.”

    “You are gonna hate me for this, but Stiles I just don't think it's a good idea. What you just said is true, and a relationship between a seventeen year old guy and an older dude would have enough problems—some of them legal, by the way—without anyone being a werewolf, or having the most depressing family history ever. It's sort of...starting at a disadvantage, don't you think?”

    “I do hate you right now. So much. Why can't I have nice things?”

    “I don't think Derek counts as nice things, that's the problem. And trust me, getting your heart broken sucks.”

    “Is it a good sign or a bad sign that I'm really not worried about my heart in all of this?”

    “That depends. I think it's a terrible one, but it probably means you're actually in love, or close to it.”

    “I really think I might be.”

    “You're totally screwed then.”

    “Thanks, Scotty, I knew there was a reason I called you.”

    “Anytime, bro.”

~*~

    'Everything' is a pretty fucking scary word, but it wasn't an actual marriage proposal. It wasn't the end of the world, it wasn't. It just meant that things couldn't be casual, and that it would be risky, there would be feelings, and those were messy and Derek was, well, he was messed up, they all knew that. Stiles knew more than most. He knew about Paige, he was pretty sure he knew about Kate, and then there was Jennifer. Or Julia. Whatever. There was the fire, and how Derek felt about that (and Kate again). There was Laura being dead, and Cora being...distant. And fucking Peter. What would Derek even do with some happiness that didn't turn to ash at the worst possible moment?

    And it's not like Stiles is ok. He's always worried about his dad because his mother is dead, and thus the fact that parents can just...die is something he knows and actively fears. He got panic attacks back when things were 'normal', and now he has a permanent darkness around his heart—which is some how connected to him being possessed by a japanese demon fox, and going on killing spree. He feels like his eyes flash blue sometimes to remind everyone what he's done, because Stiles can remember every second of it, and it doesn't matter how many people tell him it wasn't his fault, or how often he tries to tell himself that, because he caused people to die. So he doesn't sleep much, he has nightmares when he does, he has a new found understanding of how he imagines people get addicted to drugs and alcohol, because he has far too many moments when he's pretty sure he'd do anything to make it all stop for awhile.

    And that's what everything means. It means he'd have to accept Derek's pain and issues, and offer up his as well. And it sounds like a fair deal, but it isn't because when you're carrying all that around, the last thing you want to do is put it on someone you love. And it means confronting the possibility that you're so weighed down, you can't help anyone else. Really, Stiles supposes that he and Derek are the last two people who should be in a relationship with anyone but a therapist. A team of therapists. A team of supernatural therapists. Because werewolves.

    And then there's the other part of this deal. Stiles will be eighteen in seven months. That would be seven months of having a boyfriend, and not being able to even make out with him. Stiles isn't sure why that is exactly, no sex he would understand—hate, but understand, but no kissing? No hugs or caresses? What's that about? A test? Or is it just that if they start touching they won't be able to stop because damn, Derek with his fucking breathing on his neck. That should not have been so hot. Maybe it's a game. Stiles has no idea.

    The weirdest thing though, is Derek offering anything at all. He's been...different, ever since he got back from South America. He's not sure why Derek is back. It kind of seems to Stiles that he the best thing for Derek would have been to stay with Cora somewhere really far away. But ever since he came back he's been...more open and trusting? It's hard to really tell since a chunk of that time had Stiles as the nogitsune's puppet, and that was not conducive to hanging around with Derek much.

    Being possessed and dying, kind of helped Stiles get his courage up when it came to Derek. He'd been attracted to him from the start, though he hadn't really been sure about it in the beginning. He'd never really had cause to question his sexuality before that, and once he started, it was pretty confusing. In the end he gave up trying to label it. Being kissed by Lydia hit all his buttons, but being dead or nearly dead for sixteen hours sort of reset him. He sometimes wonders if part of what he sacrificed then was his connection to Lydia. It's not something that happened to anyone else though. Isaac and Allison are still making out, and he doesn't think Deaton and Scott get along any differently. But at the end of the day, he knows he doesn't actually want to date Lydia. She's still a goddess, and he wants her to be safe and happy, but he doesn't need it to be with him anymore.

    Derek though, the thought of Derek with someone else, as unlikely as it is at this point, it hurts, it pulls and boils. He remembers when Derek pushed him into his door to threaten him, and the reckless desire that came over him then, the desire to challenge Derek, to push back. It pretty much sums up their entire relationship: push. Stiles decides that he wants to keep pushing. Pushing everything as far as it will go. It's a little terrifying, but Stiles is pretty sure that's par for the course with love.

~*~

    “So...” Stiles says, impossibly nervous, and knowing that there is no point in being nervous about how nervous he is, because Derek can hear his heartbeat and thus, trying to play it cool is out. So he decides to just be nervous. Which is weird, but he paces back and forth in front of his desk and ignores the way Derek's eyes follow him.

    Derek just lets him.

    “Ok, I think I sort of love you.” Stiles blurts out. “And I am stupidly ok with 'everything', but I don't get the absolutely no touching thing. I mean if you say no, then no it is, but is there a reason?”

    “I told you. I don't do casual.” Derek is watching him closely, head slightly tilted because he's also listening, listening for any lies, Stiles suspects.

    “I promise not to kiss you casually?”

    Derek shakes his head. “You're underage. It's illegal for a reason. You need to know you can trust me, whether you realize it or not, and if I can't keep my hands off you until you're an adult, then we shouldn't do this. And I need to know it's real...I need to know before I can...”

    He takes a deep breath and refuses to look at Stiles. “You're honest, you're not lying, or trying to trick me, but that doesn't guarantee we'd be good together, that we'd work. I just can't do...that...until I'm sure.”

    Stiles doesn't know what to say to that, because he could argue that he trusts Derek with his life all day so really his body is fair game, but it wouldn't touch Derek's concerns. So it is a test. Not a game. Stiles just nods to himself. Derek is worth it.

    “Right. Ok, well, I can't promise I won't whine about it sometimes. Or beg. But nothing you aren't comfortable with, ever, even once I'm eighteen.”

    “This isn't going to be easy Stiles.” Derek warns. “I don't just mean the lack of physical affection.”

    “No, I get it.” Stiles says. “We're both basically fucked up.”

    Derek lets out a hollow little laugh. “Yeah, we are.”

    Stiles crosses over to him and sits down next to him. “We'll take it slow.”

    Derek scoots over so they're legs are almost touching. Stiles decides to find out how long he can sit next to Derek on his bed in silence.

    “I think I sort of love you too.” Derek murmurs quietly.

    Stiles hums happily.

~*~

    The no touching rule has obvious exceptions:

    Like when Isaac's birthday party ends with an actual puppy pile after they exhaust themselves with ridiculous games and dancing. It starts with Alison, Isaac, Scott, and Kira collapsed on the couch, but then Lydia sits on the armrest to lean into Isaac, and somehow they all sort of spill onto the floor laughing, so Stiles grabs Derek's hand and pulls him down on top of them, and they all squawk until Derek ends up on the bottom and not crushing anyone. Stiles is half on top of him, half tangled in Scott's legs and everyone whines about how uncomfortable they are, but how little they wish to move.

    Or when Derek is on a routine patrol and gets jumped by group of goblins. They string him up between two trees and use him as a piñata. Literally. They expect to beat him until his insides spill out, which they then intend to eat like candy. The situation is dire enough that it's Lydia who knows he's in trouble. So when they find him, run the goblins off, and take him back to Deaton, Stiles feels it's appropriate to stroke his hair while he's unconscious, and to join in the awkward shoulder claps and hugs with the others after he can finally stand up again. Derek lets him and doesn't comment about it later.

    And then there's the time a group of Hunters is passing through, and Stiles is a go-between since they are unduly hostile and promise to shoot any wolf who comes near them. Stiles goes with Chris and Allison to talk them down, and Stiles trips over a stupid tree root even though the meeting isn't even in the woods. He goes down hard, and sprains his ankle badly. He spends weeks on crutches, and Derek breaks their no contact rule to help him get into bed at night. In fairness, it is not remotely sexy because Stiles' ankle is swollen and he's in pain and cranky.

    The anniversary of the Hale fire is another exception, but Stiles actually asks and obtains permission to hold Derek that day. Stiles wasn't sure if he should ask, given what he knows about Kate and how the fire happened, but Derek seems glad to have someone to cling to, and he buries his face in Stiles shoulder but doesn't cry.

~*~

    It builds slowly. They have seven months to get through after all. Sometimes they just spend time together, not even really talking, just doing mundane stuff. It's almost as if nothing has changed at first—although, instead of turning up in Stiles' room to ask for an update on research or because Scott won't answer his phone, Derek comes just to see Stiles. And Stiles goes to the loft and does his homework. Its easier to concentrate at Derek's—unless Derek is in view. But the highlight of every meeting is the moment Derek chooses to almost touch Stiles. Sometimes he almost brushes against Stiles arm, or stops just short of cupping his cheek. Once he walks up to Stiles, eyes fixing Stiles to the spot, and leans in to stop just shy of Stiles' lips.

    Sometimes they talk. Stiles chokes through describing a nightmare about the nogitsune making him kill his father, and how he wakes up feeling his fathers warm blood on his hands. Derek describes how the fire changed Laura, how being the alpha affected her as well. Stiles shows Derek a picture of his mother, and recalls the first time he ever saw Lydia Martin. Derek mentions Paige, and Stiles confesses Peter told him and Cora about her. Derek is furious about that, though not really at Stiles, and it's not one of their more relaxing visits.

    Scott doesn't ask about it, but Allison and Lydia do, and Stiles isn't sure what to tell them, so he shrugs and says it's a work in progress. Scott is just grateful he doesn't have to hear any gory details. Isaac never says anything, but sometimes he looks between Derek and Stiles with a puzzled expression. Kira just grins like it's a secret and she's in on it.

    But then one day Derek crowds close to him, and Stiles can tell by his eyes that Derek wants him. He and Derek stay close, eyes locked for a moment. Then Derek's eyes flash blue. It startles Stiles, and he steps back. Derek closes the space and does it again, which is when Stiles realizes it was intentional. Stiles backs up a step again, and soon Derek has backed him against his bedroom door and it all makes sense.

    Stiles opens his mouth to complain about being herded like a sheep, but Derek dips in to breathe the air Stiles' has just exhaled. His eyes are fixed on Stiles' lips. So Stiles licks them, and then moves his hands up to grab Derek's jacket, and tug it like he did once before. That's not technically touching, and besides, it's a homage to the first time Derek had him against this door. Derek growls and turns his attention to smelling Stiles' neck, nose just so close to Stiles’ ear.

    “What do I smell like, anyway?” Stiles whispers, sliding his hands down to wait near Derek's hips, hungry to grab hold and pull Derek closer.

    “Like home.” Derek huffs as he gently blows at the collar of Stiles' shirt, some warm breath slipping under the fabric and making Stiles' heart run like a rabbit. Or perhaps that's the words themselves.

    “Mmm.” Stiles swallows. “God I want to touch you. Just in case you were wondering.”

    Derek replies by pulling back and shrugging out of his jacket. He tosses it onto Stiles’ bed while keeping eye contact. Stiles licks his lips again.

    “Where would you touch me?” Derek asks, voice so low Stiles strains to hear.

    Stiles' eyes rake up and down Derek and he takes his time, considering his options seriously.

    “Here,” Stiles brings his hand to Derek's neck, and carefully moves it back as though to cup the back of Derek's head. “Then I'd pull you close,” And Stiles brings his mouth to Derek's, and they breath each others air again.

    “Here too,” Stiles' other hand goes back to hover by Derek's hips. “Like this,” and his hand glides just off the surface of Derek's pants around to his ass.

    Derek growls, a full, actual growl. It would be so easy, so easy for either of them to make the touch real. But they don't. Stiles steps back and they take a moment to marshal their control, both breathing hard.

–

    It carries on like that for days, days! But then Stiles decides to step things up. After a study session at Derek's that ended with him trembling from want, he calls Derek as soon as he gets home.

    “Did you forget something?” Derek asks.   

    “Yes.” Stiles says, kicking off his shoes and falling back onto his bed, unzipping his pants. “I forgot to have you blow me.”

    Derek makes a startled noise, but it's pleased.

    “It's a pity.” Stiles wiggles out of his pants and puts his hand inside his boxers. “Your mouth. It's perfect.”

    Stiles starts off painting a vivid fantasy about Derek's mouth on his cock, but it doesn't last very long before he's just making noises and disconnected words like “Fuck” and “Derek” and “Yes”.

    He can hear Derek in the background making similar noises and exclamations, that's how they come to jerk off on the phone after they spend any time not-touching.

~*~

    The first real fight they have isn't about the no touch rule, which is what Derek expected it to be about. He had a sort of fluctuating bet on with himself about when Stiles would break. And he was prepared to give him one freebie, one moment of weakness. Not the occasional accidents that inevitably came of them being two people, of two minds. So when Derek was carefully not touching Stiles' arm, but then decided to slip his hand down to flick his belt loops, but Stiles chose that moment to attack the space by Derek's ear, and they ended up actually brushing against each other, that didn't count. That sort of thing was why one or the other of them often took the lead and told the other to be still. It did delicious things to Derek whenever Stiles growled out a “Don't move” like he was a wolf himself and entitled to growl. Stiles could only pull it off in the heat of the moment, any other time and he sounded ludicrous.

    But they never fight about the restrictions on their physical relationship.

    “Where else?” Derek asks, handing Stiles the bowl of popcorn.

    “That's it.” Stiles says, stuffing a handful into his mouth as Derek picks up the remote ready to start the movie.

    “Seriously?” Derek pauses, turning to watch Stiles, who is not at all attractive at the moment, cheeks full of popcorn. He chews a moment, swallows, and shrugs.

    “Yeah.”

    “So, nowhere more than what, three hours away from here?”

    “Basically.” Stiles says, finally realizing that Derek is going to object, and using his stubborn voice.

    “You could go anywhere you wanted. You have the grades, the test scores. You'll get scholarships.”

    “And I will go anywhere I want.”

    “Stiles.”

    “What? Why do I have to go far away? I think three hours is plenty. It'll be my first year, I am not marrying whatever college I pick. I can always transfer, so why shouldn't I start out closer to home. It's smarter.”

    “That's not why you're doing it.”

    “I'm not doing it for you.” Stiles snaps. “Just start the movie, this is stupid.”

    “Your future is not stupid.” Derek insists.

    “My future is will be fine. My pack is here. My dad is here.”

    “And we'll still be here in four years.”

    “If I agree to apply somewhere far away will you drop it?”

    “Will you actually consider going there if you get in?”

    Stiles sighs in frustration because he can't lie. “I don't want to go anywhere else!”

    “But--”

    “No, Derek. It's my life, and my choice, and I'm not leaving. I can rattle off ten reasons to stay, easy, but it doesn't matter because the bottom line is that I don't want to go!”

    “Why? Why are you so opposed to actually seeing where you could go and finding the best opportunity?” Derek demands.

    “I told you. The pack is here, and so is my dad. This is my home. Also, I am sort of magically connected to a tree stump. So...” Stiles tries, it does lighten things for a moment.

    “Leaving home for awhile can be a good thing. Like a rite of passage, and I seriously doubt the Nemeton will put up a fight if you leave. Hell, it might even help for you to get away from it.” Derek counters.

    “I don't want to go.” Stiles sets the popcorn bowl in his lap.

    “Beacon Hills is my home too, and I still left for awhile.”

    “Yeah, after your pack and family were basically destroyed. Plus, Laura went with you.” Stiles's voice is cold.

    “You could apply to some of the school Lydia is applying to, I won't believe she's staying here.” Derek continues to wrestle with his voice, trying to keep it reasonable despite Stiles' increasing hostility.

    “Just drop it.” Stiles hisses. “I'm not going away.”

    “Why wont you even consider--”

    “I said drop it, Derek.” Stiles grinds out. But Derek has never been any good at backing down.

    “Not until you at least think about some other schools.”

    Stiles picks up the popcorn bowl and dumps it over Derek's head. “Fuck. Off.”

    And he storms off, slamming the door to the loft behind him.

–

    “Oh my god Stiles, this had better be important.”

    “I need you to get my keys from Derek's loft.”

    “What the hell.”

    “We had a fight, ok? And I stormed out, but I left my keys on the table.”

    “So storm back in and grab your keys while muttering obscenities. I'm busy, Stiles.”

    “Oh, tell Kira hi, and I'm sorry to interrupt, but I reallllllly need you right now.”

    “No.”

    But Kira must have heard because she says 'Hi, Stiles!' in the background.

    “Come on Scott, Kira can hear me so don't make me remind you about the time with gar--”

    “Shut up! Ok, ok. Fine. I'll get your stupid keys. What did you even fight about?”

    “College.”

    “Um?”

    “I only applied to schools in the general area of Beacon Hills.”

    “Oh. So...why didn't you just apply to some other schools if it was bugging him?”

    “Because I don't want to go anywhere.”

    “O..k..Well, maybe he won't want you to go too far once he realizes you are so immature as to make me go get your keys.”

    “Dude, I dumped a bowl of popcorn on his head. I think he knows.”

    Scott just laughs.

–

    When Stiles finally makes it home, he's in no better a mood than when he left Derek's loft, which is why his father picks that exact moment to ask him if Stiles has anything to tell him.

    “About what?” Stiles sighs.

    “About all the time you've been spending with Derek Hale.”

    “Dad!” Stiles lets out an exacerbated cry.

    “Son.” The Sheriff responds mildly.

    “This is so not a good time.”

    “Tough.”

    “Argh. I don't know, ok? We were sort of thing, but we just had a fight, and I do not want to talk about it.”

    “What was the fight about?”

    “Dad.” Stiles pleads, but his father just waits. “College. He thinks I should apply to some schools outside a one hundred and eighty mile radius.”

    “...Well, he's right.” The Sheriff muses. “But we'll talk about that later.”

    “Thank god,” Stiles turns to head toward the stairs.

    “Right now you're going to tell me what you two were doing before the fight, and I don't mean just this evening. What is your relationship?”

    “Frustrating?”

    “Stiles.”

    “I don't...” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “He's my boyfriend, I guess.”

    “How long?”

    Stiles pauses to count it out, “Three months? Ish?”

    “Stiles, why didn't you tell me?” His father sounds hurt.

    “I...” Didn't want to jinx it? Didn't want to have to defend it? “We don't really talk about it. The others sort of know, but it's not a big deal, we're just...us.”

    “Are you...” And the Sheriff looks pained. “Being, ah, safe?”

    “Ugh. Yes, so safe we do not even hold hands.”

    “Son, I'm serious, you're almost eighteen, and while I would prefer you date someone your own age, it's clearly too late for me to say anything, and Derek is a good kid. But--”

    “No, really. Derek has rules Dad. No kissing or anything until I turn eighteen.”

    “So you just...what? Talk?”

    “Yeah, or I study and he reads, or we watch movies, or just hang out.” There was no way in hell he was mentioning that they call each other when they jerk off, or that they have made no touching into a sexy, sexy game.

    “That's...”

    “Weird?” Stiles asks.

    “Unexpected.” His father finishes, he looks a bit suspicious still.

    “Derek is a model boyfriend.” Stiles admits, “From a parent's perspective anyway. Not from mine, not tonight.”

    “I'm sorry about that.” And his father does look sympathetic. “Well, if you two sort it out, I expect him for dinner one of these days.

    Stiles nods wearily and goes up to collapse on his bed.

–

    Absolutely everyone agrees he should at least apply to some of the big schools not in California. But that's not why Stiles refuses to do it, though they all think he's being contrary and difficult. He's not doing it because he knows what he wants, and what he doesn't, and there is no sense in paying to apply to schools he has no intention of going to. And while Derek never likes it, they do make up. Eventually. But they keep finding popcorn in the couch for more than a week no matter how many times they take the cushions off and vacuum. Also, Derek goes to dinner, and the Sheriff makes sure to put on a show of disapproval even though, despite himself, he does believe Stiles about the rules.

~*~

    “Fuck.” Stiles says with feeling. There are still two and a half months until his birthday, and he's sitting on Derek's bed. Derek is kneeling in front of him, ghost nuzzling at his stomach, breath tickling his skin and filling his belly with heat. He slides a hand up along Stiles’ side, sending shivers down his spine. Stiles has gotten very good at imagining the touch that goes with Derek's motions, so much so that sometimes he wonders if Derek isn't cheating.

    Derek hums happily at Stiles’ reaction but then leans back on his heals. “Pants. Off.”

    Stiles let's out a giddy laugh. He stands up, and while he doesn't try anything showy or graceful, makes a point of doing everything very slowly and deliberately, keeping his eyes fixed on Derek's the entire time. Derek's hungry, desperate look is one hell of a reward.

    Stiles folds his jeans slowly, though sloppily, and lays them on the bed.

    “Now you.” He commands Derek. Derek raises his eyebrow but he stands up, walks right up to Stiles so they are practically nose to nose, and just glares at Stiles, hands nearly brushing against Stiles's boxers as Derek undoes his own pants. His eyes are dark and full of an almost angry intensity. Stiles swallows hard, trying to hold the gaze, but Derek is so close, and he has to blink and his breathing has completely gotten away from him. It's all about push with him and Derek, and who knew how much you could push with just glances and intention and tone.

    Derek's jeans fall to the floor, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief as Derek steps back out of them, and then tosses them away. Being so close, so very close and holding himself back from just devouring Derek is never easy, but this is the first time they've gone further than taking off their shirts.

    Stiles tries the offensive again, reaching out to grab at Derek's hip, his fingers trying to imitate Derek's mastery of making the touch felt even when it wasn't real. Derek's breath hitches.

    “Mmm.” Stiles says and drops down to nuzzle at the other hip. “If I could touch you, I'd pull these down,” he gently blows on the waistband of Derek's underwear. “And then I'd lick up your cock and find out what you taste like.”

    Derek whimpers. That's new, and Stiles grins up at him, face playful and devious.

    “Stiles.” Derek says his name like it's magic, like it's a prayer and Stiles makes as if to lick a line up the inside of Derek's thigh and Derek moans, he fucking moans, and it's so hot and perfect that Stiles has pull back.

    “Want you.” Derek croaks. “So bad.”

    “Your rules, dude.” Stiles pants.

    “Don't call me dude.”

    “Had to do something to ruin the moment. Jesus fucking Christ Derek, the sounds you make.”

    Derek just makes a noise in his throat that has Stiles reaching down and touching himself in desperation.

    “Don't.” Derek says. “Not yet.”

    Stiles growls in frustration but stops.

    “I want to watch you come in my bed.” Derek says. Stiles looks at him through his lashes, his honey-amber eyes needy and warm.

    “And how would you make me come?” Stiles asks, slowly getting to his feet as though he doesn't quite trust his legs to hold him.

    “Right now?” Derek lets out a shaky laugh. “I'd tackle you onto the bed and kiss you silly while I stroked you until you gasped my name and came all over yourself.”

    Stiles tries to suppress the moan that rises out of the heat in his very soul, but he doesn't manage it. He lays back on Derek's bed. “I want you next to me. I want you to touch yourself too.”

    Derek shakes his head. “If I don't stay over here I won't be able to stop myself touching you.”

    Stiles pouts for a moment but Derek refuses to budge, instead he flashes his eyes blue and growls in a the way he knows makes Stiles' crazy. Stiles gives in and, pulling his boxers down, he strokes himself a few times.

    “Don't touch yourself now.” Stiles pants. “I wanna watch you when I'm done.”

    Derek just nods, shifting his weight as Stiles' speeds up.

    Derek doesn't quite manage it, by the time Stiles gasps his name out and spills out onto his stomach, Derek's hands have already found his cock.

    Stiles is sort of annoyed by this, but after he cleans himself off with tissues, he still gets to see most of it, and Derek's face when he finds release, with Stiles' name on his lips.

–

    Scott is pretty sure they should all chip in and get Stiles a fancy hotel room somewhere for his birthday, because seven months of not touching at all seems like something worthy of the Guinness Book of World Records. For insanity, if nothing else.

~*~

    Sometimes Stiles just doesn't sleep. It drives Derek crazy because he can't fix it. But it doesn't matter where Stiles is, or if Derek takes all his electronics, or bends the rules so Stiles can sleep in the same bed with him. It can go on for days, and it's worrying, but the sleep aids don't seem to help, and Stiles just resigns himself to it and tells Derek all he can do is make sure Stiles doesn't do anything stupid when he gets kind of loopy from sleep deprivation. It's hard to cure something caused by magical darkness around a person's heart.

    Sometimes a birthday will creep up on Derek, one of the younger kids who died in the fire, and Stiles will have to beg him to come out of his room, to talk to him, to stop tearing himself to pieces inside. Sometimes it's Derek who has to beg when Stiles' finally sleeps after days of insomnia only to have nightmares that he's never sure he's woken from and tries to tell Derek the only way to be sure the nogitsune is really gone is to kill him. They've had a hand full of days where they've been so miserable, so angry at everything that's happened and so guilty that they almost seem to try to sabotage the relationship. They lash out at each other but someone always snaps out of it just before the point of no return.

    Sometimes they have to deal with the fact that Stiles is seventeen and getting ready to go to college and just wants to play video games with Scott and complain about his classes while Derek is twenty-two, has his own apartment and bills, a job (a work at home case by case computer consulting job that since he is a werewolf in Beacon Hills where supernatural crisis are guaranteed to throw off a nine to five) and doesn't want to feel like a babysitter.

    Sometimes the Sheriff is sure he's been had and they've been having sex the whole time. Sometimes Scott gets jealous of all the time Stiles spends with Derek and Stiles doesn't remind him about the beginning with Alison. Sometimes they all almost die facing the newest thing drawn by the Nemeton. Sometimes Stiles yells at Derek for being too reckless in a fight and sometimes Derek yells at Stiles for being in the middle of the woods when he was supposed to wait in the car. Sometimes Lydia tries to take Stiles shopping for things that are not plaid. Sometimes Stiles wonders if maybe Alison, Isaac, Kira, and Scott are so close and comfortable together its creepy.

    Eventually Danny points out that he's know about werewolves from years now. Eventually Jackson comes back for a visit and Lydia ignores him until his last day when he promises to go to MIT with her so they can try again. Eventually Isaac and Alison break up, get back together, and the break up again. Eventually Scott's Dad does something right and manages to keep in contact with Scott for months running. Eventually Stiles and his dad come to an agreement about healthy foods and tasty foods. Eventually Cora comes back to Beacon Hills.

    And eventually Stiles turns eighteen.

~*~

    “Your party is next week.” Kira tells Stiles the day before his birthday.

     “For obvious reasons.” She smiles knowingly.

    “We're not actually going to have sex tomorrow.” Stiles tells her dryly.

    “No but...” She shrugs. “Make-outs are good.”

    “True.” Stiles says. “I do miss kissing.”

    She pats him on the shoulder as she leaves saying, “Have fun, you have so earned it.”

\--

    “Remember, you can't give me details” Scott says, “You can just...you know, tell me something good happened and that it was good. Unless it's bad, but still, don't tell me what was bad just...that it was.”

    “Nothing is going to be bad and I don't kiss and tell anyway.”

    “You have in the past.”

    “That was different. This is Derek. This is Derek and me, together for seven months. This means something.”

    Scott nods. “But remember, I do not want to have to boil my brain.”

    “You are no true friend. I still know more about Alison than I ever, ever needed to.”

\--

    “I realize you are used to going slow but,” Lydia hands him his present early. “Just in case.”

    Lydia got him condoms. Fancy condoms, variety packs, flavored condoms. And lube. Fancy lube. Flavored lube. Lydia, the goddess he used to dream of marrying. Stiles has no idea what his life is.

\--

    Isaac just claps him on the shoulder and says, “Good luck.” like Stiles is heading off for Mount Doom on the morrow.

\--   

    Alison is the only one who just ignores it which is why Alison is Stiles new favorite person ever.

\--   

    Stiles doesn't say anything he just sort of flies at Derek and their mouths crash together in a way that is not at all fun and Stiles almost falls over.

    “Ack, sorry.” Stiles says rubbing his chin.

    “Stiles, you are an idiot.” Derek huffs but leans in for a real kiss. He could draw it out, lean in like he always has and wait a beat before finally kissing Stiles, but he doesn't and Stiles loves him for that.

    Derek pulls back and their eyes meet. Stiles grins like an idiot and they kiss again. And again.  


    And again.

 


	2. Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (two fragments of what comes next)

One of the side effects of months spent not touching was that they had learned to still each other with a look. Stiles raises his eyes to Derek's, commanding the sliver of green edging the the dark desire of his pupils and Derek's hands retreat along Stiles's sides to rest at his hips. Stiles shivers slightly and has to close his eyes to recoup his control--but only for a second. Then he smirks at Derek's open and impatient face and ducks to lick Derek's throat. It's wide, long stripe from the base up to Derek's chin and he can feel Derek's Adam's apple bob as Derek swallows a hungry sound. Well, Stiles has an idea how to feed the wolf. He plants a few quick kisses along the same path until the soft place just before Derek's chin which he takes in his teeth and does his very best possessive growl.  


It has the desired effect. Derek wolfs out.  


Stiles pulls back and crows with triumph, pumping the air with his fist but then everything is sideways because Derek throws him down on the bed. Stiles' starts to laugh but then the werewolf is on top of him, pushing a knee up between Stiles legs so he can grab Stiles' wrists and pull them up above his head. The whole motion is quick and frankly a bit brutal, and the wolf is growling a new growl that Stiles has never heard before. But it has him writhing slightly seeking friction because of the fire it feeds at the base of his spine.

Derek's eyes are blue and full of something primal as he dips toward Stiles' neck, inhaling deeply and then proceeding to lick, nip, and suck at the violent pulsing seemingly barely kept under Stiles' skin. Some of it is sexy and makes Stiles moan but some of it just fucking hurts. Stiles doesn't complain though, and he can feel when the hands holding his wrists lose the claws and the growling fades into a something soft, almost a purr. Derek loosens his grip and kisses the corner of Stiles' mouth with a shaky sigh.  


"Was that hot or what?" Stiles asks, in awe.

  
  
Derek could hear the small shifts in Stiles' breathing and heartbeat that meant he'd left the deepest levels of sleep, and would be slowly making his way back to consciousness. He reached out to trace a finger behind Stiles' ear and down under his jawline. Stiles' responded to the touch by arching back into Derek slightly. Derek let out a pleased sound, and nuzzled at the back of his boyfriend's neck.

    Being able to touch him, to hold him, to lay beside him like this was something intoxicating that he didn't think he'd ever get used to. It was hard to believe he was allowed to have this. His previous attempts at any kind of meaningful connection had left him feeling as though he was not worthy, that he was being punished and was destined to lose it any time he tried.

    Then again, it was Stiles. Perhaps that was why. Derek couldn't and wouldn't pretend Stiles never irritated him. Being in love with someone didn't change who they were, and being in love with Stiles at all, Derek supposed was a sort of punishment in itself. He was human, he was a teenager, and he would never stop nettling at Derek. Stiles was never going to stay put, or be safe, or even ask for the bite that would at least afford him the same protection it gave Derek or Scott. He was going to drive Derek truly insane.

    He'd woken up spooning Stiles, holding him close in what he suspected was a rather crushing embrace. Because he did love Stiles. He loved him with a ferocity that thought only werewolves could feel. Stiles was his. But it didn't bother him that Stiles was human, even if by his own logic that meant Stiles couldn't love him that same way that he loved Stiles. Stiles' had his own kind of almost unnaturally strong loyalty to the people he loved. He could, if pressed, be ruthless in ways Derek couldn't, for those he loved. To be loved by Stiles might be different, but it was just as strong.

    He slid his hand up and back to slip beneath Stiles' pajama pants and lightly stroke his hip. Stiles let out a breath, coming almost awake at that first touch. Derek smiled into his neck.

    “Mmmmph.” Stiles murmured. “I like that.”

    Derek nibbled at the place where Stiles' shoulder met his neck and Stiles become suddenly completely awake.

    “Hello.” he said in alarm—not frightened but crashing into reality. This was the first time they'd woken up in the same bed together.

    “Morning.” Derek replied.

    “Can't coherent when....nnngh.” Stiles moved his leg back to touch Derek's, tracing from knee to ankle, his toes sending little shivers down Derek's spine as they danced along his skin. Who knew Stiles had talented toes?

    Derek kissed the base of Stiles neck and went from stroking his hip, to ghosting at the edges of Stiles' public hair.

    “Derek.” Stiles let out a breathy whisper and pressed back into him, making Derek let out a surprised moan as Stiles' firm cheeks rubbed against his cock.

    Stiles let out a breathless chuckle. “Glad I'm awake now?”

    Derek growled his pleasure, shifting a little to create some friction. Stiles reached for Derek's hand and guided it down to finally cup his cock. They stroked together for a moment, Stiles introducing Derek to the right starting rhythm. Stiles rocked into it, and Derek rocked into him, both enjoying the lazy pace at first, a sort of luxurious start to what promised to be build into glorious release.

    Finally, Stiles let out a frustrated noise and said,

    “Fucking pants. Too much cloth. Off.”

    And they had to stop and break contact briefly while Stiles wiggled out of his pajamas, and Derek slid out of his boxers. When they fit back together, fully naked and touching, Derek's eager cock slated against Stiles' ass, and his hand reaching back to continue touching Stiles, Derek was alive with sensation. He could feel so much of Stiles, so much skin pressed into his. It was right, the way they fit together. He could hear the rapid beat of Stiles' heart, excited and wanting. Stiles' scent was at it's best, full of his essence and his arousal, full of wanting Derek.

    Derek licked along Stiles spine all the way to his hairline at the base of his skull.

    “Fuck.” Stiles hissed, arching back into Derek, rubbing against him and guiding Derek's hand faster on his cock. And then,

    “I'm ready, prepared I mean.” Stiles said softly. “And the condoms and stuff are in my backpack.”

    Derek answered with a growl, biting down on the back of Stiles' neck almost too hard. But as the moment passed, he let up and whispered back,

    “Actually, so am I. I kind of want you to top.”

    Derek was actually startled by the reaction Stiles had to that. Stiles' let go of Derek's hand and flipped over to face him so quickly Derek didn't even have time to realize what was happening—and he had werewolf reflexes. The next thing Derek knew, he was staring into a pair of liquid honey eyes. Stiles eye's were unfathomable. The feeling Derek got from the look Stiles was giving him was of the sort of caution a predator has when deciding whether to keep stalking prey, or to finally leap out and go for the kill. Not a common feeling for a wolf to experience from a human.

    “You mean it.” Stiles' voice filtered through Derek's shock. “I figured you, being well, you and a werewolf, and a former alpha...”

    Derek almost rolled his eyes at that. “Don't be an idiot. What matters is what makes us happy.”

    “You really want me to fuck you.” It wasn't not a question, but it was tentative, as though Stiles is trying out to see what the words taste like.

    “Yes.” Derek answered, taking advantage of their new alignment to finally kisses Stiles' mouth.


End file.
